


Kids These Days

by livin_in_my_head_2



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, SPN - Freeform, Supernatural - Freeform, spn show
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-11 10:43:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11146785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livin_in_my_head_2/pseuds/livin_in_my_head_2
Summary: While working what was supposed to be a simple job, Dean, Sam, and Cas run into some very strange hunters. The Winchesters were aware of the changing youth, but they didn't know that the same thing applied to the next generation of hunters...





	1. Prologue

"Here's something," Sam Winchester said slowly as he read further into the small newspaper article, drawing his brother's attention. "A businessman in Wisconsin was alone at his home a couple of nights ago. His doors and windows were locked and there were no signs of forced entry or entry of any kind, for that matter. The next day, the maid lets herself in, finds him in his bedroom with a bullet in his brain."

Dean Winchester shrugged. "Sounds like a run-of-the-mill suicide to me."

Sam glanced up at him. "The man didn't own any firearms and in fact was an active anti-gun activist."

Dean raised his eyebrows and took a swig of his beer. "Something tells me that we wouldn't get along."

Sam chuckled, closing the newspaper and tossing it onto the bed. He stood and stretched. "What do you say? Go check it out?"

"Sure, why not. Wisconsin's only a couple of hours from here, anyway," Dean replied after a moment of thought.

"Great." Sam clapped his hands together. "Let's go."


	2. Teamup

"Officer?" Dean asked, tapping the sheriff on the shoulder as he passed. The poor man looked overworked, exhausted and haggard.

"What?" he snapped at the two brothers, who were dressed in matching suits.

As if on cue, both of the boys pulled out their FBI badges and flashed them authoritatively. "FBI," Dean explained in case further clarification was needed.

The sheriff stared at them for a moment before nodding slowly. "You're here about the deaths?"

Dean and Sam exchanged a glance. "Deaths plural?" Dean asked, confused. Sam had only read about one death, after all. It looked like whatever had killed the anti-gun activist had struck again. They would have to move fast - it had only been a day since the last killing. This monster was fast.

The sheriff nodded, looking slightly suspicious. "Um, yeah. It's in the case file. Hey, can I see those badges again?" Dean and Sam willingly passed them over and waited patiently while the sheriff examined each tidbit of information on them. Finally, satisfied, he handed them back. The boys tucked them into their pockets and listened closely.

"There was another death just like the first. A woman who was part of the same anti-gun activist group as Mr. Grayson. That's the only connection between them, though. She had two kids - twins, teenagers. Single mom. Wonderful woman."

"They always are," Dean muttered to Sam.

"Excuse me?" the sheriff asked sharply.

Dean furrowed his brow and shook his head. "Nothing. So, who do we speak to in order to view the bodies?"

"Oh, two from your team are already doing that," the sheriff explained. As Dean and Sam exchanged confused glances, he hurried to elaborate: "Yeah, they came by, got the run-down, and then went off to see the bodies. Um, if you don't mind my asking...why are so many agents working this case?"

Sam glanced wide-eyed at Dean, expectantly awaiting a cover story. Dean opened and closed his mouth for a few seconds before replying with a forced smile, "That's classified."

The sheriff's brow furrowed in bemusement, but the Winchesters were already turning away and exiting the police station.

"So, what do we do?" Sam asked when they were outside, looking as always to his big brother for guidance. "Do we...let the other hunters handle it?"

Dean shook his head, swinging open the door to the Impala. "If you want something done, you gotta do it yourself. We don't know if these guys are actual feds, amateurs, or actual hunters."

"Good point." Sam climbed into the passenger seat and Dean took off down the road, destined for the hospital morgue.

*

They intercepted the other "FBI" agents as the strangers were exiting the hospital. "Excuse me," Dean called out before Sam could warn him against making themselves known.

The couple turned around. The Winchesters saw that one was a man with sparkling blue eyes that looked like they held secret layers of mischief and mirth. The woman had long, blond hair and a stern expression. They both watched in confusion as the brothers came hurrying up.

"Agents," Dean said diplomatically, flashing his badge. Sam followed his lead.

The man's brow crinkled in confusion. "More agents? There must have been some sort of mixup. Our supervisor - "

"And who would that be, exactly?"

"Mike Kayser."

Dean and Sam's eyebrows both raised at the name. "Could I speak with him?" Dean asked in a carefully controlled voice, not daring to look at his brother.

The man pulled out his cell phone without hesitation. "Sure thing." It only took him a few seconds to pull up his superior's phone number before handing the cell over.

Dean chuckled as a familiar voice on the other end of the phone said, "Kayser, FBI."

"Hey, Bobby," Dean greeted the family friend, watching with amusement as the two hunters in front of him both took on looks of surprise. The man looked shocked while the woman looked faintly impressed. It struck Dean how young they both were - they didn't even look old enough to have a legal ID.

Not that hunters ever had legal IDs, anyway, but still.

"Dean?" Bobby asked incredulously. "Why are you calling /this/ number, idjit?"

"Ran into a couple of other hunters," Dean explained. "Just wanted to make sure they weren't real feds. Thanks." He hung up before Bobby could say anything else and returned the phone to the young man.

"Wow," he said, glancing from Dean to Sam. "It's been a while since we ran into some other hunters. When was the last time, Casey?"

"Michigan," the girl, Casey, answered promptly as if she had been expecting the question. "Six months ago."

The man's smile dimmed. "Ah, yes. That didn't go so well, did it?"

Kasey crossed her arms. "I'm guessing you guys are here about the activists' deaths?"

Sam nodded. Dean fell silent, letting his brother speak. After all, while Dean was usually handier in a fight, Sam was more diplomatic in his careful wordings and gentle, trustworthy manner.

"Yeah," Sam replied. "Got any leads yet?"

"Hey, this is our case," Casey snapped, just as her friend said, "Wanna hunt together?"

"Jack!" Casey reprimanded, turning to glare at the man. It was somewhat comical - he was quite taller than her and more muscled, yet he seemed intimidated by her.

"What?" he asked defensively. "They seem nice."

"We can back off if you want," Sam said hurriedly. "You guys /were/ here first." After all, there was never a shortage of jobs for a hunter to take. The world never seemed to run low on ghosts or demons.

Jack looked hopefully at Casey, who finally rolled her eyes and sighed. "Fine. We can work together."

"Awesome," Jack immediately said, glancing around his three companions. "What motel are you guys staying in?"

Sam gave him the name but refrained from sharing the room number, something Dean was grateful for. After all, he wasn't even sure he was comfortable with the new hunters working with them, let alone know where they were sleeping. He had woken up with too many guns pressed to his temple to have anything but mistrust about oversharing.

"Let's head over to that coffee shop and compare notes," Jack suggested, gesturing to a small shop that the Winchesters had passed while heading to the hospital.

"Sure thing," Sam agreed, and the four started off toward the coffee shop. Dean lagged back and soon Sam did the same.

"What?" he asked his older brother exasperatedly.

"I don't trust them," Dean muttered.

"You don't trust anyone. Just play nice this once," Sam pleaded, hurrying to rejoin the couple. Dean glared at his back, then shrugged as the truth of his brother's words sunk in. Sighing, he resolved to try, at least, to make the best of this situation.


	3. Research

The group sat in awkward silence, the Winchester brothers sitting in seats across from the two new hunters, who were pressed together in a booth. Finally, Dean cleared his throat and asked, "So...how did you two get into hunting?"

"My sister got possessed by a demon," Casey replied in a monotone, shooting daggers across the table with her eyes.

Dean nodded understandingly, staring at the marred tabletop before him. He shot Sam a look as if to say /your turn./

Sam cleared his throat and shifted forward slightly. "You two a couple or...?"

"How about we talk business?" Casey snapped, cutting off her companion as he opened his mouth to respond.

Dean, glad that the small talk was over, straightened up and smiled gratefully at her. "Wonderful." 

Casey just rolled her eyes.

"What have you two found?" Sam asked.

Jack shrugged. "There was sulfur at both of the crime scenes and under the fingernails of each of the bodies."

"Just a ghost, then?" Dean asked, glancing at Sam for support.

Jack shrugged. "That's what all the evidence is pointing to."

"Awesome." Dean sat back in his seat, looking rather relieved. Ghosts were easy. They weren't demons or angels or any of the other insane creatures the Winchesters had had to deal with in the past few years. "They have any enemies?"

"This town is very...divided," Casey broke in. The Winchesters were rather surprised that she had chosen to speak at all. "Half of them hate guns, the other half love them. It's like sports or politics, except gun rights."

Dean shook his head slightly, taking a swig of his coffee and looking rather disappointed that it wasn't alcohol. "So we just need to find the dead gun fan that held a grudge and torch his bones."

Casey cocked her head at him. "Do you always talk like this?"

Dean hid his grimace behind another mouthful of coffee.

*

Back in their motel room, Sam and Dean were preoccupied with very different matters. Dean was chugging a beer while he stared contemplatively at the wall. Sam was typing concentratedly on his laptop, pausing every so often to read the results his latest search had yielded.

"I don't like this," Dean finally said pensively. "Something's not right."

"Yeah, you always think that," Sam reminded him, raising his eyebrows. "They're fine, Dean, and they're willing to help us on this case. I say we combine our knowledge and work together this once."

Dean sighed, taking another drink of his beer. "Whatever. I don't like this."

"You've said," Sam replied dryly, returning to his research.

Dean sighed again, glaring at the wall.

*

That night, the Winchesters met up with Jack and Casey at the local library. They dragged a few chairs together in a corner, talking quietly so as not to be overheard.

"Got anything?" Sam asked.

Again, Casey spoke up in the area of research. "Well, this guns/no guns feud has been going on for a few decades now, so there are plenty of dead people on both sides. However, I did find one person related to both of the victims."

"Great," Sam replied. "Who?"

"Ken Grayson's father. Agatha's uncle."

"They're related? Seems like something they should have mentioned in the case file," Dean said annoyedly, glancing at Sam. Sam nodded in agreement - sometimes, their jobs were made that much harder just by policemen not making the obvious connections.

"So when should we burn the bones?" Jack asked.

Sam and Dean exchanged a glance. "We could do it tonight," Sam suggested. Dean nodded. "We have all of the stuff in Dean's car."

"Great!" Jack leapt to his feet. "Let's go."


	4. Chapter 4

Dean and Sam had burned so many bones over their years as hunters that Dean felt next to nothing as he stared down into the dancing flames. Since these particular bones were so old, the flesh had rotted off of them. That didn't mean it didn't smell awful, though. Dean almost took a sick pleasure in the aroma, however. It meant that nobody else was going to die from this particular monster. It meant that he and Sam had done one more act toward clearing their names.

Not that they could ever manage that, even with an angel on their side. Their names were coated with so much dirt that it would be a full-fledged miracle if, the next time they died, they were sent to Heaven. Although, to be fair, they had also seen their fair share of full-fledged miracles in their time, the types that gave them the ability to say "the next time they died."

"Brood much?" Kasey asked dryly. Dean glanced over at her, startled, and saw to his surprise that she was smiling amusedly. He had separated the ideas of Kasey and happiness from one another.

"Excuse me?" he asked, confused.

"You were just staring into the flames with this angsty look on your face," Kasey explained innocently.

"No, I wasn't," Dean immediately deflected.

"Angst," Kasey muttered assuredly, returning her gaze to the flames.

"I was not being /angsty,/" Dean muttered sourly, glaring into the fire.

Finally, the flames died down, leaving nothing but ash in their wake. Another job was done.

"Well," Dean said, breaking the silence, "nice meeting you two. Happy - whatever it is you guys have going on."

Sam shot him a look and he cleared his throat. "Sorry."

"See you around," Sam said, much more kindly even though they were about to abandon the couple to cover up the remains of their dirty work. He gestured to Dean and they started toward the Impala as Kasey watched them icily and Jack lifted a hand in solemn farewell.

*

The brothers had decided to spend the night in the town's motel since they didn't have another case lined up and frankly, both of them were too tired to drive anywhere. They both collapsed into their beds and fell straight into sleep.

The next morning, they were catching breakfast at the local diner when the door was shoved open, making the bell ring urgently and drawing more stares than the Winchesters'. Jack and Kasey stormed in. They almost immediately located Sam and Dean and hurried across the diner to them, worry and anger etched on their faces.

Dean threw down his fork angrily. "Goddammit." Sam shot him a sympathetic look and turned his attention to the couple as Jack pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and wordlessly threw it on the tabletop. When Dean made no move for it, Sam reached over, unfolded it, and quickly scanned its contents. He glanced out the window once to regain his composure and passed it to Dean.

It was a news story describing another mysterious anti-gun activist death.

Dean stared sadly at his breakfast. "Can I at least finish eating?" he asked hopefully.

If looks could kill, he would have been dead in seconds from the look Kasey turned on him. He held up his hands defensively. "Fine, sorry." He sighed, took one more mouthful of scrambled eggs, and rose from the booth to follow the couple from the restaurant, Sam close on his heels.

*

"Sherrif," Sam greeted the man. The group had split up, the Winchesters heading to the police station while Jack and Kasey investigated the crime scene. Since the crime had happened a couple of hours before they had caught wind of it, they knew the sheriff wouldn't still be at the scene of the murder - or what he likely thought was a strange suicide.

"Boys," the sheriff replied, glancing from Sam to Dean with a somewhat confused expression on his face. "Where are your two friends, the friendly guy and the little, angry girl?"

"The crime scene," Sam explained with a small, amused smile at the sheriff's description of Kasey. "Sir, what can you tell us about the latest death?"

The sheriff shrugged. "You can read the case file if you want. Pretty much identical to the other cases, though, except for one thing."

Dean and Sam exchanged a glance. "What's that?" Dean asked.

"This time, there was a witness," the sheriff explained.

The brothers exchanged yet another glance. "We're going to have to speak to him," Dean said, flashing the sheriff a smile.

"Knew you would," the man muttered, turning and gesturing over his shoulder for the boys to follow him.

*

"Kelly?" Sam asked gently, easing himself into the uncomfortable chair across from the witness and flashing his fake FBI badge. Dean leaned against the doorframe, staring down the woman with a no-nonsense glare.

The woman would barely even meet Sam's gaze. Her eyes were wide and full of numb shock and fear. "I've already been questioned by the police," she started shakily.

"We know. We just need to ask you a few questions," Sam hurried to explain, having heard that line countless times before. The woman said nothing, but didn't do anything to discourage him from asking any questions, either.

"Why were you at your brother's house last night?" Sam asked hesitantly. Although he was good at it - certainly better than Dean - he had always hated this part of the job. He had hated having to extract information from people whose entire lives had just fallen apart. He hated treating them like they were nothing but wells of information.

But it had to be done for the good of whoever was next on the victim list.

"I was going to join him in an anti-gun rally this weekend," Kelly replied quietly.

"So you were an anti-gun activist as well?" Sam straightened up slightly. This woman's life could be in danger, if the ghost was striking related targets. He made a mental note to check into the other victims' relationships.

"Yes. Well, not at first - I was fine with them at first, but then Clark opened my eyes."

"How do you mean?"

"He showed me all of these terrible stories about guns in the news and told me about people he had met with who were pro-guns and the kind of people they were - and I knew I had to fight back," Kelly said, an odd tone entering her voice.

Sam glanced over his shoulder at Dean. Something was amiss here.

And he had no idea how difficult it would be to get to the bottom of it.


End file.
